The first time George Clooney fulfilled his contractual obligations by bringing Stacy Kiebler out to pose with him at one of his premieres, they had the chemistry of a soft dick and an anus-less ass. If awkwardness was a power source, George could use those uncomfortable as shit pictures to run the conveyer belt of leased trophy hos in his basement. George and Stacy went for round 2 at last night’s Paris premiere of The Descendents and if you put the black sheep of the Keebler Elves and the ghost of Rosemary Clooney together, they’d probably have more sparks between them than this mess right here.

Couldn’t Stacy come to the premiere dressed like Brad Pitt’s peen to pull some kind of excitement out of George’s face? George’s meh-ish facial expressions run from “Why are you still here?” to “Must call the escort agency in the morning” to “This bitch’s titty tape came out to play and I ain’t even going to tell her.” I mean, George is more excited to see some bald dude in a brown suit than the trick he’s supposedly scissoring on a sex swing. Yeah, I know George has to have a shiny thing on his arm whenever he’s selling a movie to make him look like some kind of Bond type who is a master pussy wrangler, but it’s starting to make him look like a Hugh Hefner type who would rather be making out with a bowl of cold tapioca pudding.

But my favorite part is the titty tape. You know you have problems when the titty tape is the star of your premiere. And now I want to tapioca wedding.

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